


Our Fiction

by shipsandrec



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Destiel - Freeform, F/M, M/M, Sabriel - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-03
Updated: 2014-11-07
Packaged: 2018-02-03 05:43:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1733192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shipsandrec/pseuds/shipsandrec
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At the mercy of a sadistic trickster, the Winchester brothers and Castiel find themselves trapped in a string of homoerotic fan fiction excerpts with no way out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> First of all, big thanks to Kat, my awesome editor! This does contain m/m, so if you're not into that sort of thing.. I'd advise you to find another story. Happy reading!

_Dean didn’t know how it had happened, but he definitely wasn’t regretting it. His lips were firmly pressed against a dorky angel’s. At first, Castiel hesitated, hell, at first Dean hesitated, but when Cas leaned in and kissed back, Dean knew that his impulse decision was a wise one. Dean pushes back onto Cas, pressing him against the motel wall_

_Cas falls back, catching his arms around Dean’s neck and pulls Deans back with him. Dean gasps against Cas’ mouth in surprise, forgetting how strong the angel is. Cas loosens his grip around Dean’s_ n _eck, confused and unsure whether or not he hurt Dean, but when Dean cradles Cas’ face with one hand and slips the other behind his back, so the angel can push harder into the kiss._

_When Cas finally gives in and opens for Dean, the hunter groans in satisfaction. He had never kissed another man before, but it felt all too right. His tongue slips into the mouth that’s attached to his, tangling with Cas’.  The angel stays passive, using his fingers to knot themselves in Dean’s hair._

_The two stand there for several minutes, enthralled with one another. The thought of the hunt that they are on with Sam soon begins to fade._

“Sammy, what the hell are you reading?”            

Sam spins around in his chair and finds Dean’s eyes glued to the computer screen, still scanning the page his brother is on.  Several moments pass before his gaze leaves the screen and returns to his younger brother, piercing daggers at him.

He stammers for several seconds before regaining his voice. “I’ve told you,” Sam shifts in his chair so that Dean can’t see his laptop anymore. “Sometimes, I read fan fiction about Supernatural to come up with ideas to deal with our problems. The things the fans come up with are pretty bizarre, but also helpful.”

“Dude,” Dean waves his hand at the computer, his eyes looking like they’re about to bulge out of his head. “That was just about Cas and me getting it on.”

“The description said that,” He pauses and turns back to the computer. “Hold on. Gimme a sec.”

“Are you going to finish reading it?” Dean asks in shock.

“No!” Sam had gone to a different page. “Here: The Winchester brothers embark on a new hunt which is harder than any hunt they have ever faced before. They must ask Castiel for help. Dean and Cas discover themselves on an adventure they will never forget.” He closes the laptop and looks back at Dean. “See, it said that we were going on a hunt. I was hoping that it could have like tactical stuff for our real hunts.”

“It said that Cas and I were going to discover ourselves.”

Sam turns red, “Well, most fan fictions have at least a little Destiel nowadays. I just skim over it most of the time.”

“Destiel?” Dean looks at him skeptically.

“Yeah, it’s like Sam/Dean or Wincest.” Dean pales. “But, it’s between you and Cas. Look on the bright side,” Sam smiles mischievously. “At least you’re only gay and not some incestuous creep.”

“Shut up.” Dean grumbles, sitting down on the bed furthest from Sam.

The two sit in an awkward silence.

Sam clears his throat, “Did you talk to the witness?”

“Yeah, I talked to the witness.” Dean loosens his tie and flops back onto the bed, laying an arm over his eyes.

“So..?”

“So,” Dean breathes out tiredly. “It takes me, like, ten minutes to stop him from spewing utter shit at me. I swear, it’s like they don’t want us to help, but when he actually did talk, it was quite interesting what he had to say.” He pauses. “Apparently, the thing that killed the four guys was Popeye.”

“Come again?” Sam asks, surprised.

The two had gotten word about a suspicious death in North Carolina and headed straight there. Five high school wrestlers had stayed after school for some extra practice and were alone in the gym when someone, well, some _thing_ broke in and killed four of them. At first, the brothers dismissed it as some crazy maniac, but then they saw a few pictures of the place online. The door had been knocked in, completely off its hinges and was sent flying across the room, actually killing a kid and splattering the walls with blood. They were lucky that an adolescent had swooped in and snapped some pics of the place and posted them on their Facebook or else they would have totally ignored the case.

“You heard me right.” He mumbles, dragging his fingers down his face. “The kid, I actually feel bad for him, said that they were about an hour into their workout session when the door flew in, catching his buddy pinning him dead against the wall. Then, some white short guy came in. The kid said the guy was pretty thin but had incredibly muscular arms,” Dean turns his head to raise an eyebrow at Sam. “Which were both tatted with matching anchors.”

“What the hell,” Sam breathes out in a mixture of shock and awe.

“It gets better,” Dean repositions himself to face the ceiling. “The guy also had a sailor cap on, a pipe in his mouth, and an empty can of spinach in his hand. He began yelling at the kids about missing his girlfriend named Olive Oil and how the five of them were coconspirators with Brutus. Then, he began beating the shit out of all of them to find out where his darling Olive Oil was. The remaining wrestlers, excluding our witness, were hammered to death with an anchor.”

“So, how’d he get out alive?” Sam asked, on the edge of his seat.

“He said that he begged Popeye for mercy and the guy just gave it to him… Then, left.” Sam gives Dean a skeptical look. “Yeah, my thoughts exactly, but I’m thinking, maybe this is a message.”

“A message for whom?”

“For us,” Dean springs up, his expression blank. “Remember the last time a fictional character randomly killed someone?”

Sam pauses for a moment, his mind wrapping around the question. When he finally realizes the answer, it gets caught in his throat. “Gabriel?” Dean looks at him in surprise due to his hoarse tone. “Gabriel, you think he’s alive?” Despite his efforts not to, Sam all but croaks.

“No,” Dean draws out. “I think it’s an actual trickster.”

“Oh, right,” Sam doesn’t know why, but sadness falls over him. “Well, we need a stake and some blood of one of the victims.” He mumbles.

Dean pulls out a long stick and a bottle of red liquid from his bag and places it on the table. “Already way ahead of you, Sammy.” He smiles, looking oddly proud of himself.

“How,” Sam begins then, shakes his head tiredly. “Never mind, I don’t want to know.” He pauses. “We should probably get Cas’ help with this.”

Dean nods and blushes lightly, the thoughts of the fan fiction Sam had been reading returning to his mind. It’s weird who their fan base pairs them up with. He gets up and walks to the mini fridge, pulling a beer out. He turns back to find Sam staring at him expectedly.

“Aren’t you gonna call Cas?”

“Why don’t you?” He gasps, a little quicker and more defensive than he would’ve liked. His blush deepens and Sam smirks.

“You’re still thinking about the fan fiction, aren’t you?”

“Shut up, no I’m not.” Dean slams the fridge door shut.

“Then, get Cas down here.”

“Why don’t you?”

“He only responds to you, remember?” He smiles and leans back in his chair, forcing himself to push the thoughts of Gabriel away. “Profound bond?”

Dean mutters a few profanities under his breath and takes a big swig of his beer. His arms fan out to his side. “Castiel, oh angel of the lord, can you bring your feathery ass down here?” He pauses and realizes he had shut both eyes in embarrassment. He doesn’t open them when he hears Sam laughing from across the room. “Please?”

There’s a pause, then the quiet ruffle of feathers. Dean can sense another being in the room. He opens his eyes and sees Cas standing right in front of him. In surprise, Dean falls back. The angel always lands so close to Dean. Cas jumps forward and catches Dean’s hand. Their eyes lock for a moment and Cas stares at him curiously.

“What do you need, Dean?” He breathes out quietly.

“As of now,” Dean’s voice is barley a whisper, “To be pulled up.”

Cas helps Dean to his feet and the two stay quiet for several moments. Dean can feel Sam’s eyes staring at the two of them curiously.

“Why did you call me, Dean?” The hunter stiffens, the two of them are still standing extremely close and when Cas talks, Dean can feel the angel’s breathe on his face, but that’s not what caused him to go stiff. The way Cas has been saying his name, articulating each letter as if they were a symphony. It gives Dean a weird feeling in the pit of his stomach.

“We think we have a trickster on our hands.” Dean whispers so quietly that Sam can barely hear him.

Cas turns around and the moment is lost. Dean heaves out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. Why did Cas make him feel so weird?

“Yes, I knew there was a powerful entity nearby, but I couldn’t place what. I don’t have much experience with Tricksters, but I’m glad you called. They are tricky and hard to kill. You need-” He cuts off, seeing the bottle and stake, “I see you already know how to slay one.”

“Yeah, with the whole Gabriel episode,” Sam chirps up, It’s the first time he has spoken since Cas had arrived and when the angel turns his attention to him, he looks surprised.

A smile appears on his face. “Nice to see you, Sam.”

Dean feels a ping of unwanted jealousy.

“Uh, nice to see you, too, Cas” Sam clears his throat. “Here,” He mumbles, opening the laptop. “There are some really graphic pictures someone posted online of the crime scene, you should probably see them.”

“Yes, that’d be good,” Cas strolls to Sam’s laptop.

Dean’s eyes pick up. Wasn’t the tab still open on the fan fiction? “Sammy,” He shouts, running across the room. “The fan fiction!”

Sam gasps, but before he can change the tab, Cas has already read the screen. His head is cocked to the side, staring at the now changed page. The brothers hold their breath, curious of Cas’ thoughts

“Destiel... big bang?” He stutters in confusion. Dean turns a whole new shade of red, stronger than any other time this afternoon. “Dean, what does this mean?” Cas turns around and looks at Dean, who is standing behind him, hand out stretched to slam the laptop shut. It was too late though.

Dean may not know the entire internet lingo, but he understood that. His mind races, not sure whether or not he should tell Cas. “People who read Chuck’s books think that the two of us should be together.” His eyes meet Cas’ and Sam’s jaw drops, surprised that Dean is actually telling Cas the truth and not shrugging the question off. “They write about what they actually want to happen between us.”

Cas stays quiet for a moment. Then, he nods. “Oh, that makes sense.”

‘Oh, that makes sense?’ Dean thinks to himself. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

“Here, look at the pictures, Cas.” Sam shows him the kid’s Facebook page.

Dean exhales a sigh and runs his hands through his hair. He needs to get out of here. He reaches into his pocket and rummages through it until he feels his baby’s keys in his palm. He strolls to the door, thinking a drive in the Impala will get his mind off this freaky Destiel shit. His free hand opens the door and he steps out, feeling a cold breeze on his face.

Not even a second passes before he hears a yell from inside. Dean turns his head and sees Cas barreling towards the door. “Dean! Get back into the motel! The Trickster is here!”

Dean tries to get back inside, but it’s too late. There’s a whisk of colors, then everything around him goes dark.


	2. Chapter 2

Dean wakes up with a start. He has no idea where he is. All he knows is that he’s in a dark and small room with no way out; the door knob that pushes into his right side is locked. His eyes try to adjust to their surroundings without much success

Memories from what felt like moments before begin to steadily flow back, but only in bits and pieces. Dean remembers stepping out of the motel, Cas screaming, being picked up off his feet, then oblivion. Now, here he is, in some room, hell knows where, with no way to get out.

He spreads his arms to span out to both of his sides, trying to gauge how much space he has; there’s barely any. His legs extend to do the same, but his foot connects with something before they can fully stretch out, something too soft to be a wall.

“Dean?” It’s Cas. Dean moves back, pressing his legs back up against his body and feeling slightly bad for kicking the angel. There’s a rush of movement, then a thud. Cas had tried to stand up, but the ceiling was too low. “Dean, is that you?”

The hunter is surprised to feel a tentative hand on the side of his face, trying to feel its way into figuring out what it was touching. “Yeah, buddy, it’s me.” Cas’ hand wavers for a moment before it retracts.

“Are you hurt?” It surprises Dean with how much genuine concern there is dripping from Cas’ voice. It’s like a parent to child, but it also annoys the hunter greatly; he’s a grown man, he doesn’t need some angel to worry about him.

“No, I’m fine.” He grumbles harshly then, catches his tone, trying to soften it. “Cas, where the hell are we?”

“I’m not sure, but we have no way out. Not only did the Trickster kidnap us, but he must’ve made it so I can’t access my powers.” His voice drops, “I can’t fly us out.”

“So basically you’re-” Dean pauses, not sure what to say. _Powerless? Worthless? Ineffective?_

“-Useless?” Cas finishes the sentence for him. “Yeah, I know, Dean.”

The hunter swallows harshly, feeling bad. “No I didn’t mean it like that, Cas.”

They’re both on edge, unsure where they are and having no way to escape. Dean takes a deep breath; he knows that if they’re going to get out of here they’re going to have to think straight, no more arguing with Cas.

Suddenly, Cas is leaning over Dean, the crotch of his pants pressing right against Dean’s face. All the thoughts that flooded Dean’s mind earlier disappear.

“Um, Cas, can you get your dick out of my face?” Dean tries to sound angry, but his voice barely comes out as a squeak.

 “I hear an air vent over your head, maybe we can crawl out.” He pauses in concentration, pushing harder against Dean in an attempt to get closer to the vent. “I just need to bust it open.”

“You should’ve told me to get out of the way.” Dean says in defeat, he can’t lean back, Cas has him pinned against the wall. “I don’t particularly like being T-bagged.”  

“No, you help me keep my balance, if you move, I’ll fall over.” He says it like it’s a fact, like Dean should’ve known this is why he is being leaned upon.

“Oh, glad to help out.” He mumbles.

Dean sits there quietly, while Cas continues to wiggle from side to side. He’d like to say that this is an incredibly awkward position, but saying that would be a lie So, he endures it. He sits quietly while the angel rubs the crotch of his pants up and against his face in an attempt to break open the vent.

A few minutes pass, “I don’t think I can open it.” Cas mumbles and giving it one last push. The sound of clanging metal echoes through the room and Cas sighs.

“Hey, it was worth a shot.” Dean smiles into the darkness, then realizes that the angel can’t see him. “Now, can you, please, move-”

Before Dean can finish his sentence, the door swings open and light pours into the room. When his eyes adjust, he can’t believe who he sees.

In front of them stands Bobby, at first glance, everything looks normal, other than the fact that he’s supposed to be dead. Dean notices he’s wearing, a grey jumpsuit with the word _Singer_ imprinted on its left side. He’s holding a ring of keys in one hand and the door knob in the other, shock plainly written across the man’s face. Behind Bobby are three kids, all sharing the same shocked expression. Then, Dean is hit with more surprise. They’re all adolescent versions of people he knows, well, knew. To the far left is Ash, laptop in hand, in the middle is Jess, poking her head over Bobby’s shoulder, having a look that states disapproval more than shock, and to the right is Balthazar, even as a teen, he wears a stupid smile and a v-neck. How typical.

Dean doesn’t immediately realize why they all look so surprised, but then it hits him like a bulldozer. He and Cas are in a very compromising position. He looks up in hopes for the angel to move, but Cas is frozen in his place, eyes glued to Balthazar, his brother. The one he had killed. Dean never really thought about it, Cas wasn’t really Cas when it happened, so he assumed that he had forgotten about smiting his own flesh and blood, but how very wrong he was, the look of utter sorrow on Cas’ face made it obvious.

He completely ignores that he’s pressing up against Dean. He completely ignores that everyone is staring at them in alarm. He completely ignores everything. Except his brother.

“Balthazar?” He whispers, spinning around. At first, Dean thought this was a good thing, but he was mistaken, because now he doesn’t have angel crotch in his face, he has angel ass in his face, not much of an improvement.  “You’re alive?”

Balthazar’s smile widens and he arches an eyebrow. “Yeah, I’m more alive than ever, but I’m guessing you are, too. Amiright, Cassie?”  He winks and Cas is obviously confused as to what he’s insinuating.

“What are you-” Cas begins, but Dean has finally had enough, pushing the angel out of his way.

“Sorry, buddy, but that was just too close for too long.” Dean smiles lightly, trying to make light of the awkward situation, but it looks forced.

Finally, Jess explodes. “Dean. Winchester.” She yells, other teens in the hallway begin to crowd around and Dean pales, not sure what the hell is going on. “I can’t believe you are cheating on _me_ with _him_ , Castiel freakin’ Novak. Not only is he a social outcast, but he’s a dude. That means.” She gasps loudly, more for effect than anything else. “You. Are. Gay. Oh my god! Does that mean that I’m just a cover?” She doesn’t even take a breath to let Dean get a word in. “I can’t believe that you’re doing this to me. We are so through.” She spins around to stomp off, but before she does, she smiles one last time at Dean. “I hope you know that I’m going to tell the foot ball team and you are sooo going to be kicked off, even if you are the star quarter back.” She waves her hand and walks away.

_Star quarter back?_

Dean looks down at his attire and to his surprise he sees his usual clothing has been replaced with skinny jeans and a letterman’s jacket. Glancing to his right, he notices Cas isn’t wearing his usual dirty trench coat, either. Which, in any other situation, wouldn’t be such a bad thing. The angel wears a super baggy sweatshirt that falls over his finger tips and black jeans, on his face are thick rimmed glasses.

Ash is the next to speak, he mutters nervously. “Castiel, we should get going. The bell is going to-” A ringing echoes through the hallway, cutting him off, “-ring. C’mon, we can’t be late to fourth period.”

“What the hell is going on?” Dean shouts over the gossiping students around them.

 “You know,” Balthazar leans into Bobby’s ear, whose previous look of shock has been replaced with certain paleness. “I’ve heard that after amazing sex, you lose concept of reality, but I never thought it was true.”

Bobby turns to Balthazar in horror. “Boy, why are you telling me this?”

Balthazar winks and nudges him jokingly, “Just thought you should know, maybe the two of us could sneak off into the janitor’s closet for happy times.” He laughs and Bobby continues to stare at him in terror

Dean looks over to Cas, whose eyes are still fixed firmly on his brother”

 “C’mon, Cas, let’s go.”

“Balthazar,” He completely ignores Dean and places a hand on Balthazar’s face. For the first time since this weird situation has broken out, Balthazar’s smile disappears. “Balthazar, I prayed for days, hoping our father would bring you back. I thought I killed you. I felt so much pain.” Cas leans back and punches him in the nose.” He shouts in surprise and jumps back, but Cas continues talking “You were just hiding this entire time; what the hell?!”

“Castiel,” Balthazar yells, “What are you talking about?”

Then, it hits Dean. He’s actually really embarrassed at how long it’s taken him to make the connection. It was obvious really, a trickster had come to town, killed people with a fictional character, and now he’d tricked Dean into a different universe. After all, this had happened before.

“Cas.” He whispers, placing a hand on the angel’s shoulder and whispering into his ear quietly. “None of this is real. Balthazar, all of this, none of it is real.” There’s a pause and Cas goes rigid.

“He’s still dead.” He whispers.

Dean’s eyes light up with shock, but he’s not sure why, he should’ve expected this. He imagined if it were Sam. If he had spent several years trying to get Sam back, only to find out that he was dead. Then, suddenly, Sam’s alive, for several minutes he gets to see his brother alive and well, only to have him stolen from him once again. The hunter’s heart throbs for Cas, but there’s only one answer to give.  He strings an arm around Cas in sympathy. “Yes, buddy, I’m sorry.”

Cas leans into Dean, still staring at Balthazar, who is giving the two of them quizzical looks. “Should’ve known,” He looks up at Dean, their faces inches apart, and takes a deep breath. “Trickster?”

“Trickster.”

There’s a long pause. “So, what did you do last time, to get rid of Gabriel?”

“Well, he was trying to teach us a lesson about ‘playing our parts’, but it was in television shows. I have no idea where we are and why people we know are here, but we need to find out.”

Suddenly, everything freezes. There’s no more gossip. No more Ash freaking out about being late to his next class. No more Balthazar giving the two of them weird looks. It’s just Cas and Dean. Then, another figure appears before them, he looks ordinary enough, but they both know better.

“Trickster,” Dean hisses. Cas straightens up and glares at the demigod before them.  

“Ah, I was beginning to think you’d never figure out it was me.” He pauses and forms a lollipops in his hand. “How do you like it? I know Jess and Ash are a little OOC, but I thought Balthazar was perfect.”

“OOC?” Dean asks, hatred dripping off his tongue.

“Out of character.” The trickster rolls his eyes. “Seriously, when I overheard that you and Sam read fan fiction about yourselves, I assumed you’d know all the lingo.”

“Fan fiction?” Cas questions.

“Yes,” He rolls his eyes and conjures up a chair, sitting down. “You two are definitely not the brightest, are you? All of this is just like your adventure with the archangel, except the part you play is so much better. It’s what people, your fans specifically, expect of you.”

“What do you mean?” Cas asks, but Dean knows exactly what he means and goes pale.

“Well,” The Trickster clarifies. “As you are well aware, your prophet friend, not the Asian, but Chuck Shurley, wrote numerous stories about all of you. Although, it was supposed to be a tale of bravery and the hardships of a life run by demons, monsters, angels,” He uses the sucker to point to himself, “And gods, many read the books only for the gay subtext. Many ship, or pair you two together. In other words, Destiel. So, since Chuck is dead, and so is the story, the readers have decided to take matters into their own hands and write about what they think happens between you.” He pauses in thought. “It has really changed from the original get go, your little fan boys and fan girls  have begun making these things called Aus,” He chuckles lightly under his breath and takes a break from talking to like his lollipop.” That stands for alternate universe, usually, everything’s different, except you two are still in love.” He leans forward, giving Dean a wink. “No matter what, you two are always gay for each other.”

“So, basically,” Dean growls. “You’re giving us the Gabriel treatment, except through gay fan fiction? Dude, that’s kinda tacky, never has a monster copied another monster before. They usually stay original.”

The Trickster springs up in his chair, anger plain on his face. “I am no monster.” He spits at Dean, incredibly close to the hunter. Castiel jumps closer to Dean in an attempt to protect him if the Trickster tries anything. “I. Am. A. God.”

The Trickster lets out a long laugh, like a mad man, and snaps his fingers. Once again, everything spins with color, then goes dark.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, darlings. Sorry that took so darn long. You're all awesome.

The wind always has excited Dean. It probably had to do with the fact that it possesses a freedom that he never could quite obtain. Such a natural phenomenon that has all the power in the world, able to do virtually anything it wants. A small gust of wind can improve someone’s day by presenting itself as a simple breeze and a strong blast can show itself as a tornado, destroying whatever it wishes. It all depends on the mood of the wind and everyone has learned to accept the wind and everything that it is: a cleanly simplistic thing that can do whatever and go wherever it wants. Dean will never admit that he is childish enough to be jealous of something as simple as the weather, not even to himself, but whenever he feels the wind flowing through his hair while trudging through the woods or deserts or wherever a hunt has sent him or driving in the Impala, he always feels a ping of jealousy towards the free wind that has no responsibilities. One thing that the wind doesn’t have on Dean is the never ending, terrible situations that the oldest Winchester son has been. Never has the wind been beaten unconscious. Never has the wind had to fight for its life. Never has the wind ever had to do anything other than blow, which circulates back to why Dean is so jealous of it. The wind never had a little brother to protect or a father to serve under. Or a friend falling from the sky at what seems to be one hundred miles per second.

In all honesty, Dean never has been in the last situation before either, until this very moment, watching in horror as the breeze nips away at his ears. Cas is way bellow him, falling as fast as humanly possible, and Dean has no idea on how to help him. There’s a pause, making him wonder why he isn’t falling as well, but it is shortly explained by the fact that he is sitting on a broom stick, which makes him curse at the situation and almost has him laughing. The Trickster has put them into some Harry Potter themed FanFiction; the level of nerdiness of Supernatural fans never ceases to amaze Dean.

Not that any of that matters now, right now he needs to figure out how the hell to use a flying broomstick. It is easier said than done to say the least.

He rocks back and tightens the grip he didn’t even know he was holding on the stick and tries to think on how they did it in the movies because he definitely did not read those thick books, but now he wishes that he had let Sam convince him when they were kids. He racks his brain for the late nights when he watched them when Sam didn’t want to go to sleep until dad came home and he put one of the movies in to calm down his kid brother. They never got through much because Sam would always fall asleep before the movie’s end, but they would get through enough to remind Dean one, essential thing about broom stick riding.

It’s all in the hands. Which is something he did not to suspect to think when coming to Cas’ rescue.

He dips the tip of the broom down and plummets down with it. A fear that he will fall off his broom and tumble down with  no cushion never leaves his mind.

While flying down, he sees others on brooms halting in the air, similar to the last episode, everyone resembles someone in his life. He sees Kevin, Ash, and Charlie in Ravenclaw blue, yelling and swinging their wands in the stands, ineffectively trying to stop Cas from falling. Once again, he almost laughs when he notices Garth in bright yellow Hufflepuff robes - in which Dean almost sighs when he sees that he is in Gryffindor red gear because he always had a soft spot for all the dorks in Hufflepuff - as he taps on Bobby’s  shoulder with one hand and pointing at Cas with the other. The comedic thing was that Bobby was in Headmaster robes. When he looks to his side, everything seems to piece together. Surrounding him are other Gryffindors who are either trying to win the game or shrieking in fear at Cas, but the team that he is playing, cliché enough, Slytherin, all seem to continue to play, except one person, Michael, who is sitting on his broom, staring at Dean instead of Cas and Dean may have only seen his not-so-sorry ass for a second, but he knew by the smug look on his face that he’s the one that pushed Cas off his broom.

He looks back down and sees Cas, screaming his name at the top of his lungs, but the angel can’t hear him. He tips the broom as far as he dares and gets an inch away from Cas, letting go of the broom and wrapping him in his arms. From here, he didn’t really plan on what to do next because he’s only a few meters away from the ground and he has no way of recovering, so he flips himself over so that he will cushion Cas’ fall, making it so that his back is to the ground.

“Hey, hey,” Dean tries to shout over the annoying wind as the broom flies out from beneath him, “you’re going to be okay, Cas. I got you. You’re going to be okay.” Cas looks at him for a moment before tying his arms around his neck and burying his head in his neck, looking terrified, more vulnerable than Dean has ever seen him.

When they finally hit the grass with a cracking thud, the last thing Dean hears is his name being repeatedly whispered under Cas’ breath.

***

Sam didn’t realize how much of a loner he and his brother are until Dean had left and there was literally no one in his phone contacts that he could call for help. It wasn’t always like that, it’s just that all of his friends are dead, which makes it one hundred times worse. He stands in the doorway of the motel room and looks out, staring at the Impala that is parked across the way, knowing better than leaving the room and going to it. He could grab the bottle of blood and stick and walk into the eye of the storm, daring to be drawn into wherever his brother and friend were, hoping that the Trickster wouldn’t strip him of his weapons, but other than that there were no options. The computer is useless; he knows everything about Tricksters. It’s not like he has to research anything.

He reaches back and slams the door, running a hand through his hair. His head turns to the room and he notices the bottle had fallen on the floor, probably when Cas and Dean had their little, personal welcoming party. If Sam wasn’t trapped alone in this cheap motel room he may have actually laughed at his brother, his angel, and how ridiculous the two of them sometimes act. Then, another idea hits him; the last resort of ideas, but one nonetheless.

He moves next to the bed and gets down on his knees, closing his eyes and clasping his hands together. Slowly, he puts his elbows on the bed and a blush rushes over him. He realizes why Dean is always embarrassed to be the one praying; it’s humiliating.

“Uh, hello.” He clears his throat. “Sam Winchester, here, the younger of the Winchester brothers. I’m not sure if you guys are still mad at us for kicking you out of heaven all the while ago, but if one of you takes sympathy of Dean in my time of need, I am really hoping that you take sympathy on me in Dean’s.” His pauses. “If you won’t help me because your once righteous man is in trouble, then I should mention that Castiel is, too, and if you want him safe, then you really need to help me.” He licks his lips and his blush deepens, curious to how many angels are listening to his attempt to sound threatening. “Thanks.” He mumbles, trying to soften what could little be called a prayer, hoping that it worked.

When his eyes open and no one’s there, he isn’t sure whether or not he is surprised, relieved, disappointed, enraged, or a mix of all four. He crawls on the bed and shuts his eyes, exhausted and worried for his brother and friend, wishing that there is something that he could do to help them in just the slightest way. Then, he sighs and sits up in bed, staring at the stick that still lies on the table.

He jumps up and grabs the stick off the table and scoops the bottle off the ground, setting pace for the door. Slowly, once in front of it, he slowly turns the handle and swings it open. Before even getting his second foot out, he is knocked out and whisked away to a different place.


End file.
